I got out and grabbed my purse. “I’ll see you back at the office.” I walked over to my car, and the first thing that caught my attention was the mismatched set of tires, not a one of them the same size. An accident waiting to happen. My heart rate rose as I thought that maybe, if I drove slowly, I could make it home in one piece.
Fab had u-turned and was now hugging the opposite side of the road. She powered down her window. “What’s going on?” she yelled.
I waved her off and grabbed the spare set of keys out of my pocket.
Apparently my non-answer wasn’t satisfactory. Fab u-turned again and coasted to a stop just ahead of the Hummer.
I opened the door and unleashed a string of filthy words under my breath. The interior had been stripped. Since the dash was missing, along with the steering wheel and ignition lock, it was unclear to me how it got here. Had to be a tow truck, but I bet if I went inside and asked, no one saw a thing.
This was a slap in the face for not turning that criminal, Deuce, in to the police, along with Addy, assuming I could locate the property so she could be found again. Cootie would know, but it probably wouldn’t bode well for him if word got out that he’d helped in locating the twosome.
The sound of the kitchen door hitting the wall less than two feet away grabbed my attention. A tall, weasel-faced man squeezed by the car next to mine, headed to a truck that had just pulled up and double-parked. As I stood there, caught in his stare, he tipped a nonexistent hat and put his hands behind his back, coming back with a handgun, which he aimed right at me, taking a shot that tore through the skin on my left biceps.
He needs to spend more time at the range. Without a second’s hesitation, I drew and shot back. He dropped to the ground, dead.
His waiting ride squealed off down the road, back towards town.
I fingered my arm. It was a clean shot, straight through, and blood covered my fingertips. I bent over, resting my head on the side of the Hummer and gulping for air.
Fab cut her engine and leaped out, running over and hooking her arm around me. “You better be okay.” I nodded. “What the hell was that?” She walked me over to her car and pushed me up against the passenger door.
Over her shoulder, I noticed a few heads poking out of the entrance, no one thus far willing to venture any farther. “Wild guess—insurance that I’d never mention Deuce’s name. He couldn’t be sure I’d show; he just got lucky…and then it ran out; if that’s him leaking blood on the pavement.”
“Cops are on the way,” an unfamiliar voice yelled.
A couple of good-sized men, figuring the coast was clear, walked out to where the body lay and bent down for a closer inspection, neither touching him. One fished his camera out of his pocket and got a couple of shots.
“What am I going to tell the cops?” I asked in a small voice. “I need help getting my top off to wrap my arm.” The right side was easy, not so much the other side, which burned like the devil.
Fab tied it under my armpit, and I held it in place. “The truth,” Fab said in a no-nonsense tone. “Sort of, anyway. He shot first, and you returned fire in self-defense. If it’s who we think it is, once they ID him, there won’t be much of a sympathy level. Thankfully, he can’t hit his target and you can.”
I groaned. Why is it never a clear-cut answer for the two of us?
“Leave out the part about retrieving the Hummer, unless asked, which I highly doubt that they will.”
“More bad news there besides the tires.”
Fab turned and checked the car over, her eyes sparking with anger. “That’s an accident waiting to happen.”
“It needs to be towed; the inside was stripped. Do not call Spoon. In fact, the only person that needs to know I was shot is Creole, and you can make that call.” I leaned into her side.
The first cop car roared up, a second one right behind, and the flashing lights of an ambulance bringing up the rear.
I’d find out later that there were several eyewitnesses. It would have been interesting to know where they all disappeared to until the cops arrived, but at least they stuck around. They all lined up to tell the same story. The dead man—Deuce, as it turned out, who should have sent a thug to do his dirty work—pulled a gun without any provocation that witnesses saw and shot the red-haired woman, who shot back, and he dropped like a sack.
I’d had no clue that getting shot sapped one’s strength like that and didn’t offer any resistance to being laid out on a stretcher and rolled into the back of the ambulance. On the way to the hospital, I passed out.
I struggled to open my eyes and finally woke up in a hospital bed, my arm stitched and bandaged, Creole’s blue eyes staring into mine from where he was sitting by my side. “I’m happy to see your face,” I said sleepily.
“Love you,” Creole said, brushing my hair back and kissing my cheek. “As soon as the doctor gives the okay, I’m taking you home.”
“Are you going to nurse me back to health?” I smiled and traced his cheek. “I feel pretty good right now, no pain anyway, but I imagine that’s the drugs talking.”
“I have visions of you being the worst patient ever.” He kissed me again. “I’ve informed Fab that she can help keep you entertained and off your feet until you recover.”
“Where is Fab?” I asked.
“She’s busy organizing your life. It’s getting to be a habit with her.”
“Did she tell you…?”
“She called Didier and had him tell me. We met the ambulance here at the hospital—she never let it out of her sight—and she gave us a rundown on the day. That Deuce bastard is lucky I can’t yank him back from the beyond and kill him again.”
I reached up and tugged on his t-shirt, bringing his lips down to mine and kissing him.
The door opened, and a smiling nurse entered. “Ready to go?”
Chapter Eight
A week later, Nurse Creole gave me the okay to socialize and invited Fab, Didier, and Help to dinner. He placed the order for the pizzas and had Didier pick them up.
“I should’ve let Didier decide what to eat; we could be sipping kale-and-tofu shakes,” Creole said, amusement in his eyes.
I bent slightly and made a barfing noise.
Creole shook his finger at me and grinned.
The doorbell rang, which was a rarity. Creole walked outside and opened the gate for our three guests.
Fab was the first across the threshold. “Didier insisted that we announce ourselves like normal people.” She rolled her eyes.
Behind her, Didier reached out and pinched her butt. “I saw that.” He set the pizza boxes on the counter. “Don’t argue. I’m well-versed in your antics.”
Fab gave him a moony smile.
I was about to make a retching sound when I caught Creole’s frown. “You’re no fun,” I whined and flicked the lids open, making sure my shrimp topping got ordered.
Creole slapped my fingers and slid the boxes out from under my hand. He took them outside and set them on the table, which he’d set earlier with my supervision. Didier followed with an oval bucket of iced beer and water, and I tossed Help a roll of paper towels. Nothing but the best china and linen for guests.
A knock—actually, more like someone pounding on the back door with their fist—had me stopping in the middle of the kitchen. Fab, who stood on the opposite side of the island, shrugged. It wasn’t her for once, but someone was emulating her trick.
“Open up,” a male voice shouted.
I recognized the voice and opened the door to my brother, Brad, and his daughter, Mila, who he held in his arms. Mila yelled, “Bonesy,”—her version of bonjour, taught to her by Fab’s father—and leaned forward for a kiss.
“How did you get in?” Fab demanded.
“Thanks for the welcome, sister from a different mother.” Brad sniffed. “I have a key and codes. And a damn good thing.” He started to hand me Mila, who was wiggling for the handoff.
Fab stepped in front of me and took Mila, and
they traded Eskimo kisses. At Brad’s scowl, she said, “Madison hurt her arm.”
“What the hell happened?” Brad eyed the large gauze pad secured with an ace bandage. Good thing he hadn’t come yesterday before the dressing wrapped around my arm was removed.
Since we were having guests, I’d traded Creole’s shirt for a full skirt that I could pull on and a sleeveless top. Brad’s reaction was a reminder to wear sleeves until the wound healed so no one would be the wiser.
Fab entertained Mila with an unrecognizable animal sound, eliciting a laugh from the little girl.
Brad ignored Fab. “Good thing I know how to follow the pizza boxes, since I never get invited to my own sister’s house, like ever, for dinner. Wouldn’t know a damn thing if I didn’t.” He whispered the last bit. “I happened to drive by the pizza place as Didier was headed to his car, arms loaded.”
I one-arm-hugged him.
He wiped his cheek, where I’d left multiple kisses, on his sleeve. “Mila is the only one allowed to leave spit on my face. And Emerson.” He winked.
For once, my brother had a girlfriend that everyone in the family loved. Smart, funny, and not crazy.
“Well…” I hooked my arm through his and led him out to the patio. “As you know, you’re just in time for dinner. I hope you’re hungry; we’d love for you to stay.” We stopped in the doorway, and the guys stopped talking and shifted their attention to Brad. “Look who’s here.”
“My favorite.” Brad eyed the bucket sitting on the side table. He reached out and grabbed a bottle of beer, inspected the label, then popped the top with the opener sitting nearby and sat down.
Fab shimmied around me and sat between Didier and Help. Mila climbed on Didier’s lap, and he ripped off paper towels and shoved them in the top of her t-shirt, fashioning a makeshift bib, then put a piece of pizza on a plate for her.
I claimed my seat in the opposite side of the table, between Brad and Creole.
“I’m not going to take it personally that you get an invite and I don’t.” Brad had zeroed in on Help, and to his credit, his expression remained neutral. “Let me guess, you’re the reason my partners have been whispering around the office, leaving me out of discussions. Based on the last time I saw you, I suppose you have another dead-body update of some kind.”
Help snorted, conveying, Not funny.
Dead silence around the table.
“Just great.” Brad sighed. “I suppose all this furtive sneaking about has something to do with the bandage on my sister’s arm. Mother must not know, or I’d have gotten a frantic phone call.”
“No, she does not, and you’re not going to tell her,” I said.
“Cool. Bargaining chip.” Brad sipped his beer. “Can’t wait to hear the details.” He helped himself to pizza. “Just know that when Mother does find out, she’s going to flip out all over you. Trust me, she will hear about it, but not from me.”
I gave him the abbreviated version of events.
“After years of being your partner in mischief, I can see through the plot holes.” Brad sighed and half-stood, reaching for another beer. “Any reason I’m not to be trusted?” he asked, sitting down.
“You hate drama,” I reminded him.
“There’s something to be said for ignorance.” Didier chuckled. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
“Emerson says I need to get over that or I’m going to miss out on all the good stuff where the two of you are concerned. Appears she’s right.”
Help broke the silence. “I’m having a few issues with a property I own.”
Brad perked up, since he was knee-deep in the real estate business, partnering with the rest of the family. The hands-on day-to-day duties fell to him, Creole, and Didier. “Where’s it located?”
“Card Sound.”
“I’m seeing a pattern here.” Brad glanced at me. “Not to be rude, but what’s out there?”
“Nothing. One of the reasons for buying. Got a great deal,” Help said, conveying that that might not have been a good thing.
Mila laughed, and all eyes cut to her. Didier was teaching her how to cut her pizza with a knife and fork, her hands resting on top of his.
“French boy.” I sighed. “Pick it up with your fingers and chow down.” I demonstrated.
The guys laughed. Didier ignored me and whispered in French to Mila, who responded with a giggle. I expected her to be multi-lingual before she went to kindergarten.
“You’d have thought this would’ve been my first question when you walked through the door,” I said to Fab, “but what’s the update on my SUV?”
“Good news and good news.” Fab beamed, a fist-pump implied. “Called Gunz, and he had it picked it up on a flatbed and taken to his auto body guy. Super secret fellow, no name and touted as an artist. He gave it his professional once-over and said it would be a while getting it back.” She let an “and” hang in the air before adding, “In the meantime, Gunz set you up with a loaner ride for as long as you need. In return, we track and return cars whose owners are delinquent on payments.”
Gunz was a longtime friend of Fab’s who would pretty much do anything she asked and she the same for him.
The men growled, which had Help laughing, and Fab ignored them all.
“You make it sound like retrieving an overdue library book,” I said. “People aren’t generally happy when their cars are repossessed. Not to be the downer at the table, but I’ve got experience with the role, and I’m not interested in such jobs. The next person to shoot at me might not be a poor shot.”
“You know…” Fab said, breezy smirk firmly in place, “I’ve got those jobs assigned already.”
“Thank goodness for Toady,” I sighed. Another associate of Fab’s, who would do anything his Frenchie asked. He once saved my life, so I was rather fond of him. “His biggest responsibility is turning out to be keeping us out of trouble with our husbands.”
“Both Gunz and Toady sent their regards, along with offers to kill Deuce if he weren’t already dead.” Fab grinned. “Toady gets extra points for being creative in how he’d dispose of the body.”
Toady had once mentioned human snacks for alligators, but I’d never delved into the details.
“I bet if I forego the eat-and-run trick and hang out for the evening, I’ll hear all kinds of things. I’m waiting on the dead-body update,” Brad reminded us.
Creole and Help exchanged silent communication. Help shrugged. “You trust him. It’s fine with me. Since he’s got a kid, though, he might not want to get too involved.”
Fab lifted Mila off Didier’s lap and disappeared inside to wash her hands and face.
I stood and followed them into the house, grabbing some kids’ books, a pillow, and a blanket, then went back outside. I threw the blanket over one of the double chaises, which the cats saw as an invitation and jumped up. Fab came back and set Mila down between the cats, and she turned her attention to them, stroking their fur.
Fab sat on the end of the chaise.
“So, you want to be in the know?” Creole picked up a knife. “Put your hand over here.” He motioned to Brad. “You have to swear by all that’s sacred to keep your mouth shut and seal it with blood.”
I grabbed Brad’s arm. “No blood at the table.”
“You take all the fun out of stuff,” Creole said, amusement in his tone. “Any update on the Deuce case?” he asked Help.
“It’s officially closed.” Help swiped his hands together. “The witnesses’ stories were all basically the same. Madison was cooperative and answered all the questions put to her. There’s nothing to suggest that they need to dig any deeper.” He finished off his beer and held the bottle out to Creole, who exchanged it for another. “By the time the cops ran down an address for Deuce, who’d done his best to remain elusive, the warehouse he’d been using had been cleaned out. No interesting finds.”
“Addy Clegg?” I asked.
“Not a trace of her and no sightings. The consensus is that
she hightailed it out of the area,” Help said.
“I’d like to know how she managed to hit the road hauling a house and not get noticed,” Didier mused.
“My guess is that she’s got it tucked away somewhere nearby, and when she thinks the coast is clear, she’ll come out of hiding,” Creole said.
I raised my hand. “I’ve got news—or information anyway—to share. It won’t come as a surprise to anyone except Help…unless, of course, someone already told him.” I looked around the table at the blank faces.
Creole twirled his finger with a shake of his head.
“Got it—get to the point.” I quirked my head. “I had an associate run various reports on Card Sound, unsolved murders, and crime stats in general, and it turns out there’s more unsavory activity than one would expect. Before you moved out there,” I said to Help, “two other bodies were found near your property. You know what’s irksome? No follow-up articles.”
“What kinds of reports?” Help demanded.
“Informative ones. One even included photos with nice large X’s indicating where the bodies were found. To my untrained eye, they appear spray painted in the dirt. I’d think they’d wash away or get buried under muck, but then, maybe the authorities didn’t need them to be permanent.” I smiled at his scowl. “I had a copy made for you.”
“I don’t have any news,” Fab spoke up. “But I do have a really great idea.” She went on to pitch her security camera plan to Help.
He perked up at that suggestion. “We should talk. If you’re agreeable, you’d have to go out and have a look around.”
I shuddered at the thought of going back.
“We’ll take a team to cover us,” Help reassured us.
“That reminds me,” Brad said. “A couple of the new businesses at the Boardwalk approached me about adding additional security measures in their storefronts, and I told them you’d be in touch. I’ll send you an email tonight with the contact information. I talked you up as being the best.”
“Thanks,” Fab said. “They’re easy jobs, and thus far, not a one of them has ended with me in cuffs.”
Didier didn’t share the others’ smirks.
Initiation in Paradise Page 5